


We Make Our Own

by queerofcups



Series: Naming [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-22 15:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofcups/pseuds/queerofcups
Summary: Dan’s Name stretches from the outer edge of his shoulder, across his clavicle and stops just above his heart.It’s not Phil’s name. Never has been. Never will be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi at queerofcups.tumblr.com!

Dan’s Name peeks out of every shirt he wears. It’s not that it’s impossible to hide. If Dan wore shirts that fit him more closely, that came up high on his neck, no one could see. But he’s Dan and a cheeky little shit who’s proud of the hard jut of his collarbones, so he doesn’t. 

So everyone knows that Phil isn’t his Name. It doesn’t always stop the fans. Their comments all start with “I know they don’t have each other’s names but…”

There’s no but really. And the fans are more right than they know. 

Phil’s mouth brushes across Dan’s Name on his way to Dan’s neck. Dan’s breath picks up when Phil starts sucking a bruise into the blank space of his neck. It’s too hot to be doing this, April barreling into May and the air in their flat hovering somewhere between warm and unbearable. 

Dan’s been walking around in increasingly little clothing, so really, it was just a countdown til Phil tackled him. The little shit was probably planning on it. 

“Yeah,” Dan says quietly, rolling his hips up to press against Phil. 

They’ve been doing this for years and years and years. Phil knows how to make him feel good. The Name on Dan’s collar doesn’t matter right now, just like the Name stretching across the top of Phil’s shoulder doesn’t matter.

\--

Phil’s always known his name isn’t Dan’s Name. If Dan hadn’t been constantly partially nude the first few years of their friendship, he probably would have wondered: the draw he felt to Dan would make sense if they were soulmates. Instead, in the early days, he stared into the screen, reading the Name on Dan’s skin over and over, reminding himself that friends was good, he could do friends.

“So how do you feel about friends with benefits?” Dan had asked, almost a year exactly into their friendship. Current Phil is still pretty sure Dan had made a calendar event.

The thing is—

It’s not unusual. People don’t spend their whole lives searching for their soulmate, usually. They date around, assuming that they’ll run into their Person eventually and usually they’re right. And everyone knows what’s up. If you’re dating someone, and they’re not your Namemate, you’re just having fun.

Phil likes fun. And he likes Dan.

Phil agreed to try things out with Dan, on the agreement that if it feels to weird they’ll go back to being just friends, sans benefits.

\--

Dan picked up a habit a few years into their friendship. 

“Yours,” he mumbles, tilting his head back so Phil can get to the tender skin of his neck easier. 

“Yours,” he moans into Phil’s shoulder as Phil smooths his thumb over the head of Dan’s cock, spreading the wetness he finds there.

“Yours, yours, I’m yours,” Dan babbles. Phil thrusts into him, losing the little control he had left, biting down on the thin-stretched skin of Dan’s collarbone through the thick black letters of a Name that isn’t his.

They don’t talk about it afterwards.

\--

Dan has a weird relationship with Phil’s Name. He’s weirdly affectionate about Phil’s future soulmate.

He’s been known to drop kisses on Phil’s shoulder, on top of the Name, greeting Phil’s Name just like he greets Phil, soft and amused.

“It’s just weird,” Phil brings up, once, into the darkness of their lounge at night. “They’re not really a person to me yet?”

“Of course they’re a person,” Dan scoffs. “And they’re your soulmate, which means I’ll love them. Because I love you and they’re part of you.”

That’s Dan’s other habit. He drops I love yous around Phil like they’re nothing, doesn’t seem to mind that Phil almost never reciprocates.

Phil knows he’s traditional, knows that not everyone thinks you can only ever love your soulmate in that way. But he thinks that. So it’s strange, when Dan drops an I love you and Phil wants to say it back.

\--

Phil knows that he’s shaped Dan. He knows he was one of the first, if not the first man Dan’s been with. He’s relatively sure he’s the only one Dan’s been with since they started sleeping together years ago. He knows that the way Dan fucks is the way Phil likes to be fucked. He knows that Dan doesn’t swallow because Phil likes to come on his chest. He knows that Dan kisses with a little more teeth, because that’s how Phil likes him to kiss.

Sometimes, he worries that he’s ruined Dan for his Namemate. He worries that they won’t like to be fucked the way Phil does, but Dan won’t want to learn a new way. He worries that they don’t like teeth, or won’t tell Dan how pretty he is, how good he is at making people feel good.

Mostly, though, he doesn’t care.

Mostly, privately, he feels possessive. Dan’s perfect for him, because Phil’s made him that way.

 _Mine_ , is what he thinks when he’s on his stomach, pressing back against Dan, taking him in.

“You’re mine,” Phil tells him, his fist tight around Dan’s cock. He feels drunk from his own orgasm, wants Dan to come so they can take a nap, so he says what he knows will get Dan off fast. “So pretty, so pretty and good and mine.”

Dan comes, hissing back, “Yes, yes, yours, yes.”

Mine, is what he thinks when Dan kisses him later, both of them tired and sated.

Dan falls asleep in Phil’s bed, like he does most nights.

\--

Sometimes, Phil’s name burns, the way it did a decade ago when it first showed up.

\--

Once, Dan came home and told Phil he’d found someone with his Name. Phil knows what the right reaction is. They’re best friends. He’s supposed to grin, and ask Dan what they’re name was.

He’s supposed to hope that Dan’s found the one, _the_ one. Like they’re all supposed to hope for.

Instead, his stomach clenches, and he finds himself a little short of breath. His eyes feel hot, and wet, and he’s not sure why.

“Yeah?” He asks, staring at the television. He can’t look at Dan, can’t stand to see his facial expression.

“Yeah,” Dan says. “It was weird. They didn’t have my name, but for a second it was like. Are you the one? But I didn’t…feel anything? So I guess that’s how I should have known?”

Phil takes a deep, shaky breath and nods.

Phil’s never met anyone with his Name. He has a common name, so he’s probably met plenty of people whose Name was his name. He’s just never noticed.

A few hours later, he sits on the couch, thrusts up into Dan’s mouth, tells him he’s close.

“Do it,” Dan pulls off and says.

There’s a challenge in his eyes. Phil doesn’t ask what, just takes himself in hand, pulls Dan closer with a hand on his neck. He comes with a few tight pulls and a groan. He stares into Dan’s eyes as he wipes his hand across Dan’s chest, rubbing come across his collarbone, wet fingers lingering across black lettering. Dan doesn’t look away. He doesn’t look away when Phil offers him his fingers to lick clean, just does it.

He doesn’t look away when Phil pulls him onto the couch and jerks him off hard and fast. He doesn’t look away until he’s closing his eyes and coming, Phil’s name on his lips.

Phil kisses him so he doesn’t have to hear.

\--

Objectively, they’ve met a lot of people in their lives. There’s a chance they’ve met their Namemates and it didn’t change anything.

Phil doesn’t say this out loud, though. He’s afraid it might sound too much like hope.

\--

Dan’s really good at feelings. He’s great at talking about them, at getting Phil to talk about his. He sounds a lot like his therapist when they’re having serious conversations. He’s not always been this way, when he and Phil first met he’d prefer to close himself off, stare into the void of the universe and list all the ways he’s insignificant.

That still happens, sometimes.

But most of the time, Dan’s able to articulate what he’s feeling, able to pull them through any conflict.

So the thing is, neither of them are unaware.

It’s just, he tells Phil once, that being in a mildly kinky relationship with your best friend, who isn’t your soulmate, is a lot to process and opens up a lot of questions he doesn’t want to deal with.

For Phil, there’s only one question: _what will I do when you meet your Namemate?_

Phil flinches, when he meets people with Dan’s Name. He doesn’t feel a thing when he meets people with his Name. He knows what it means. But being in love with your best friend, regardless of their name or their Name, is a lot to process and opens up a lot of questions he doesn’t want to deal with.

They have sex a lot. Phil’s pretty certain it’s what they do instead of talking about it.

\--

Dan’s picked up a new habit.

“Just yours,” he groans, pressing his face into Phil’s pillow. His thighs are pressed closed together for Phil to fuck between and his skin is soft everywhere. He grindss into the bed and then back into Phil and everything feels hot and close and almost too good. “Just yours, only yours.”

Phil presses more of his weight onto him, presses his fingers into Dan’s hip and says, “Tell me.”

“Yours,” Dan says louder, lifting onto his forearms. “Just yours, only wanna be yours.”

From here, Phil can’t see Dan’s Name. From here, it’s just him and Dan, no other ghosts in the room.

\--

People who don’t know them make assumptions.

Little old ladies smile at them in grocery shops and have Phil lean over so they can tell him about their Namemates and how they met, and how Phil should cherish the time he has with his.

Moms and Dads smile at them at meet and greets, muse about how lucky they must be to get to work with their Namemates. Phil has gotten used to the surprise on their faces when he tells them, gently, that he doesn’t have Dan’s name. Dan never corrects them.

\--

“You know I’ll love your Namemate, right?” Phil says, exactly once, years after they start fucking, but years before they admit that there’s no one else for them but each other. They’re in the kitchen. Dan’s watching an egg fry, determined not to let this one burn.

“Will you?” Dan asks, glancing at him.

Phil doesn’t answer. He’s supposed to say yes, yes, of course. Because that’s what best friends do.

Instead, he reaches out and smooths his thumb across the Name stretching across Dan’s clavicle. Dan’s looking back at the pan, but smiles.

Phil lets him finish cooking his egg, then pulls him closer. He presses him against the fridge and kisses him carefully, pressing their chests together. Dan’s hands run across his back. One stops to rest on his shoulder, over his Name.

This is the conversation they have for years.

One of them says, in so many words, _I will let you go_.

The other says, _will you?_

It’s a conversation they’ve never finished.

\--

“I would love your Namemate, because they’re part of you.” Phil tells Dan one day, almost desperate. Dan’s been making noise about moving out of their London flat, and it’s starting to feel like the last time Phil can offer this. It’s been years (and years and years) and there’s no one else, and people see Dan’s Name less, now. Phil can feel options closing up, and he doesn’t miss them.

But Dan has to know this. He has to know that Phil loves him enough to give him even this.

“I wouldn’t,” Dan says simply, flipping through their mail.

Phil stares at him.

Dan looks up at him and shrugs. “I wouldn’t.”

\--

Dan’s Name stretches from the outer edge of his shoulder, across his clavicle and stops just above his heart.

It’s one of the first things Phil sees when he wakes up in the morning, one of the last things he sees before he falls asleep at night. It’s been there since Phil met Dan for the first time. It precedes Phil by a couple years. It’s not Phil’s name. Never has been. Never will be. It’s static, unchanged and unchanging.

Dan, though.

Dan writhes and gasps under him and promises, breathless, “Yours. Only yours.”

Dan laughs and screams and cooks him eggs, usually unburned, and presses kisses into his mouth, mumbling, “Yours.”

Dan whines, and loses at video games and challenges him to more rounds and reminds him, “You have to, because you decided to keep me.”

Dan travels around the world and meets thousands of people in a year and still comes home to him, to Phil, whose name is nowhere on Dan, whose Name isn’t Dan.

Dan is quicksilver sharp, bouncing and rebounding and keeps choosing him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i did a time stamp meme over on tumblr and some folks prompted some additions to this fic

_a few years before we make our own_  
Dan looks from the iCal notification to where Phil’s face fills up his screen. Back and forth. Back. Forth. The notification says ASK HIM FUCKER. YOU KNOW HE’S INTO YOU. DO IT DO IT DO IT.

It’s not the Name thing. He knows plenty of people his age that are fucking around, not interested in finding their Namemate right now. He knows Phil’s weirdly traditional and gets squirmy whenever Dan mentions his friends from school hooking up, even if Phil never actually says anything about them and their Namemates. But he’s pretty sure they can work through that. It’s not like he’s asking Phil to date him.

So there’s no reason he should be nervous.

There’s no reason he should have to be bullied by his past self just to fucking do it.

Phil’s talking about the video he’s working on, or pancakes, or something. Dan’s been having hours long skype sessions with Phil long enough to know when he should be listening and when he should just let Phil go.

“How d’you feel about friends with benefits?” he blurts before he can stop himself.

Phil stops talking about whatever he was talking about and stares at Dan. Dan stares back, bullying himself into bravery. If Phil says no, its fine. They can continue being best friends after a brief period of Dan pretending that he’s never ever asked this question, and it’ll be fine.

“Uh, it’s fine I guess?”  Phil says. “As long as everyone’s on the same page and knows that its nothing serious?”

“Yeah totally,” Dan nods. He can do not serious. There doesn’t have to be anything serious about the way his stomach flips sometimes when they’re both mostly asleep and he opens his eyes and Phil is just there, watching him. That’s just. Details.

“Would you want to…” Phil trails off.

“Yes,” Dan says immediately. He’s wanted to since the first time the Skyped and he figured out that this hilarious dude on the internet is was just as hilarious, and hot, one-on-one. “Yes. With you. If you’d. Like?”

Phil just nods, grinning a little and Dan feels like he’s lit up from the inside. This doesn’t have to be serious. He can definitely just mess around until Phil finds his Namemate.

\--

_a year after we make our own_

Dan’s sitting out on the balcony, looking at nothing in particular, when the door slides open and Phil steps out of the flat, still wearing his jacket, looking like he’s seen a ghost. Dan had sent him out for crisps, swearing he’d just die if he didn’t get the salt and vinegar crisps that only the shop down the street seems to carry.

Dan watches Phil sit next to him and breathe in and out a few times and waits. He’s used to waiting for Phil to get with the program, over the small and very very large things. Phil looks out off the balcony, handing Dan the crinkly bag of crisps.

“You alright, mate?” Dan asks, taking his crisps. He nudges a knee into Phil’s thigh and waits for him to respond.

Phil takes another deep breath and looks at Dan. “I saw them.”

“Ah,” Dan says delicately and opens his bag of crisps. He always figured one of them would run into their person eventually, if they hadn’t already. To Dan, it’s always been fine. His Name is his Name, but he chose Phil. He feels jealousy. But it feels distant, abstract, a shadow of what he supposes he ought to feel. “How was that?”

Phil shrugs and turns to look at Dan. He looks shaken, but not like he’s about to make any life changing decisions any time soon.

“Unexpected,” Phil offers, reaching into the crisp bag. “I didn’t feel anything.”

Dan nods, tilting the bag away.

“Mine,” he says, pushing Phil’s hand away. “What were you expecting?”

Phil shrugs. “Sparks? A racing heartbeat? A slightly wobbly stomach? They just came up to me and said hi. They were really excited.”

Dan munches and waits. “How’d you know?”

Phil shrugs. “I just knew. They did, too. We exchanged numbers. I told them about you.”

Dan turns and stretches his legs across Phil’s lap.

“I didn’t feel anything,” Phil says, realization spreading across his face, chased by a radiant smile. “I recognized them. I just…didn’t care.”

Dan can’t help but smile back. If this had happened sooner, closer to when they decided to stop pretending they’d be happy with anyone else, he might have been upset. But now, knowing that Phil keeps choosing him, despite his doubts, he’s just thrilled that Phil’s gotten an answer to the question he’s been afraid to ask.  
  
Dan tilts the bag toward Phil. Phil takes a handful of crisps and turns forward, looking out at the view from their balcony. A smile tugs at Dan’s mouth.

\--

 _a few years after we make our own_  
Dan meets his Namemate in a shop two days before his 28th birthday. He’s picking up some ingredients for the cake Phil is apparently making him. He nearly drops the flour.

Dan had figured, after Phil’s uneventful meeting with his Namemate that it would probably never happen, and if it did he wouldn’t really notice. If Phil, who’d clung to the idea of fate and Names so fiercely, could come out of meeting his Namemate with a nice friend he occasionally had lunch with, there was no reason Dan couldn’t do the same.

Except.

Except Dan is staring at this human with dark, long hair and really cool pants and feels drawn to them. When they turn to look at him, he sucks in a breath and recognizes the tight, magnetized feeling of his body is attraction.

They stare at each other for a long moment, and his Namemate opens their mouth, and Dan’s phone starts playing Lionbabe. Dan switches the flour to his right hand and pulls his phone out, still staring at his Namemate.

“Hey Phil,” Dan says, licking his dry lips. “What’s up?”

Phil says something about needing butter for the cake as well. Dan’s Namemate stares and stares and stares.

 


End file.
